


Ancient History (Stale Coffee Grinds Mix)

by extraonions



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: remix_redux, Gen, Minor John/Rodney Implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extraonions/pseuds/extraonions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew he was in trouble the moment he smelled the coffee.  The science department's coffee supply was possibly the most closely guarded resource on Atlantis, barring the ZPM, and and Evan wasn't even sure of that some days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ancient History (Stale Coffee Grinds Mix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ancient History](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7371) by [all_my_fandoms (marina)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/all_my_fandoms). 



> Thank you to [](http:)c00kie for the once-over and helpful comments!

## Ancient History (Stale Coffee Grinds Mix)

  


> _A few none-too-taxing missions after the Daedalus leaves, and one horrifyingly awful one, John's pretty certain Lorne isn't a very good second-in-command. He doesn't seem to have the imagination required for survival in a galaxy where mist can be a sentient enemy. He's not bad enough to send back but he isn't good enough to be let out of John's sight, either._ (from _Ancient History_, by marina)

  


  


* * *

  


Major Evan Lorne knew he was in trouble the moment he smelled the coffee. _Real_ coffee, not the watered down instant crap from the mess, and even that stuff was strictly rationed. The scent hit him as he entered Colonel Sheppard's office, doors sliding smoothly open like something out of Star Trek, except cooler because Evan could open them with his brain. ATA gene. His momma had always said the Lorne genes would out, but somehow Evan doubted she ever meant it quite so literally.

So, coffee. The good stuff that Weir kept in her office, or possibly from the stash Evan just _knew_ McKay had somehow liberated from the Daedalus' supplies before the rationing went into effect. Lord only knows how Sheppard managed to get some away from McKay. Although Evan had his suspicions, he was not going to ask. Sheppard wouldn't have told him anyway. The science department's coffee supply was possibly the most closely guarded resource on Atlantis, barring the ZPM, and Evan wasn't even sure of that some days.

Not that Evan blamed the scientists for keeping McKay plied with coffee and chocolate. McKay could reduce a marine to tears faster than the meanest drill sergeant on a good day, let alone on a day without caffeine percolating through his veins.

It took a while for Sheppard to get to the point: the conversation meandered from supply orders to sports to hobbies and finally to what Evan missed most about Earth (his nephews, his family, though really he had been away from Earth longer on missions with SG-11). The fact that Evan was now beyond galaxies away from his family in Pegasus hadn't quite sunk in yet.

Then Sheppard set his coffee down and cleared his throat and Evan sat up straighter and straighter as they talked about crazy mist aliens and all of Evan's failures, real or imagined.

"Well, that really wasn't my call sir, I thought you had to sign off on it first in order to--" He tried to respond with regulations, but the colonel wasn't having any.

Sheppard's mood and expression eventually shifted from laconic to vaguely homicidal. On Sheppard, it meant instead of the colonel looking sleepy, he looked sleepy and a little irritated. Evan sucked in a breath. He hadn't been here at the time, of course, but no one new to Atlantis had _not_ heard about the way Colonel 'Going to Fly an Atomic Bomb Into the Nearest Hive Ship' Sheppard got scary calm before he started putting bodies in the ground, and heaven help anyone who got in his way.

Evan had seen the look before, but never directed at him. Then Sheppard started talking, biting his words out from behind gritted teeth, "When I put you in charge, Major, it's your job to be in charge."

Evan felt his spine stiffening impossibly straighter; his face was set in stone.

"If you can't make decisions without me around, I have no use for you. When the next crisis comes around, if I don't make it, you'll have a responsibility to the people of this city, and you better show me you're ready for that."

There was a moment of profound silence before Evan's chin came up and he managed to spit out a "Yes, sir," and a "Won't happen again, sir". He avoided Sheppard's eyes as he stood and didn't wait for a dismissal before he pivoted and strode from the room.

Any other commanding officer would have put Evan up on charges for leaving the way he had, but he had a feeling Sheppard preferred it that way anyway.  


  


* * *

  


Evan sighed. He knew he'd fucked up with the mist creature, knew that maybe Sheppard had a point. He had misjudged the man's expectations, that was all. Evan had already heard all the stories about Sheppard being a loose cannon back at Stargate Command. He just hadn't thought the man would want his 2IC to be one too.

Col. Sheppard was more a General O'Neill than a General Hammond. Evan wouldn't forget it. He wanted to be here, on Atlantis. Wanted more than being part of SG-11. He refused to screw it up again.

Evan had barely caught his breath from Col. Sheppard's tongue lashing before he heard Weir's smooth voice clicking over his headset.

"Major Lorne, I'd like a word if you please. My office."

Ah, geez. Evan pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and briefly considered a transfer. The Goa'uld were one thing. Space vampires, coffee shortages, and the combined weight of both his superiors' disapproval were something else entirely.

Weir regarded Evan over steepled fingers. If Evan was still smarting from Sheppard's impromptu performance evaluation, Weir's coolly dispassionate one left him sweating. She made it very clear that while Sheppard was willing to give Evan the benefit of the doubt, she had no room for officers who wouldn't adapt to the necessities of command in the Pegasus galaxy.

Wouldn't adapt to the nature of _John Sheppard's command_.

Evan had no doubt she would send him back to Earth scrubbing the Daedalus down with a toothbrush if it struck her fancy. The only difference between Weir and Sheppard was that she would get away with it. Look how she'd bullied the IOA and Stargate Command both into putting Col. Sheppard in charge of Atlantis permanently.

Evan "Yes, ma'am-ed" and "No, ma'am-ed" in all the right places and generally escaped Weir's office feeling like he'd been dragged through seventeen consecutive wormholes backwards and was lucky to have all his limbs intact.

Unlike Sheppard, Weir had not offered any coffee to soften the blow.  


  


* * *

  


M6P-485 looked and felt almost like something out of SG-11's mission logs, except with less trees and more citrus fruit. McKay complained bitterly about the heat and the small purple not-kumquats that would (he asserted) probably kill him.

Evan regretted the lab explosion that put Esposito into the infirmary and McKay temporarily on his team, even if he secretly had to admit that McKay seemed almost as competent in the field as he was in his lab. If only the man would _shut up_.

It was just past dawn and his team was crouched in front of the fire sipping their morning coffee when it all went to hell. Evan heard the telltale whistle-whine of incoming mortars and lunged for McKay and Reed even as he shouted, "Incoming!"

They hit the ground hard, scrabbling for weapons. The smell of spilled coffee and moist earth warred with the sharp tang of explosive ordinance and smoke.

McKay was dazed but shouting, a smear of blood oozing messily at his scalp where his head had impacted the butt of Reeds's P90. Evan cursed and scrambled to his feet before their camp was overrun. Looked to be Wraith worshipers, although with the constant explosions that rocked the ground and filled the air with smoke it was hard to tell.

Didn't much matter who they were, except that after Evan pulled Walker up and pressed the nearest gun into Coughlin's waiting grasp, Evan could see that some of the hostiles had reached McKay and were dragging him backwards despite his frantic struggles. Damnit! He didn't have enough men and Sheppard was going to kill Evan if he lost Sheppard's favorite scientist (_lover?_).

Evan quickly weighed his options. Massively outnumbered and outgunned, SOP was to fall back to the gate and call for reinforcements. Evan caught Steven's eye and his XO nodded back grimly.

SOP be damned.  


  


* * *

  


Evan came to in bursts and starts, consciousness eluding his grasp only to later find himself clawing his way up from the darkness. He was aware of pain and distant pressure that probably should have been worse pain but was muted. His senses reeled with flashes of bronze colored ceiling, the hiss of Ancient machinery, watery faces which hovered on the edge of his vision, and the sound of McKay shouting in the background. Evan winced.

McKay. M6P-485. Purple kumquat planet.

His mouth tasted of stale coffee grinds and stuffed cotton and Evan allowed himself to sink back into oblivion.

Later, Evan and Col. Sheppard worked their way through yet another stilted conversation, except maybe this time the colonel was less pissed with him and was more stumbling through an awkward apology about doubting his 2IC's relative competence under fire. It sounded like that anyway, and beneath the words Sheppard spoke aloud, Evan heard others, words like _thank you_ and _McKay_ and _you kept him safe for me_. No hard feelings.

"S'ancient history, sir," Evan slurred, and maaaan he was on the good drugs. Awesome drugs. Gonna have to do something nice for Beckett drugs.

Sheppard's face gave a lazy roll under Evan's blurred vision, and maybe he felt the colonel squeeze his shoulder once before he stepped away. Then he heard McKay, quieter now, and the low rumble of Sheppard's voice answering him. He chanced a glance through one cracked eyelid and saw Sheppard leaning into the scientist, and McKay leaning right back and....

Evan smiled and closed his eyes as Atlantis welcomed him home.  


  


* * *

  



End file.
